


to hide from the judgement of the sun

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Grey Wardens, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Here Lies the Abyss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27865030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: Why the First Warden had thoughthewas the best choice to rendezvous with the Orlesian Grey Wardens was anyone's guess.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2
Collections: 10-Words-Challenge-2020





	to hide from the judgement of the sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ziskandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziskandra/gifts).



Loghain would do his duty, of course, but the Maker-forsaken Orlesian cities had made him long for the arid heat of the Anderfels. Weisshaupt Fortress hadn't exactly felt like home, but there'd been a certain sense of belonging among his fellow Grey Wardens, of being part of something bigger. At least, to begin with. Diplomacy had been among Celia and Anora's many talents - and perhaps _Anora's_ wife's, too - but never his. Why the First Warden had thought _he_ was the best choice to rendezvous with the Orlesian Grey Wardens was anyone's guess. He'd served in Montsimmard after the Blight but, as far as Loghain himself was concerned, that was about the only point in his favour.

In truth, he was floundering, and the sudden onset of the Calling didn't help. He'd gone from investigating Corypheus amongst his own suspicions of corruption within Warden ranks, to hiding in a smugglers' cave and working with another disgraced champion. Hawke's armor bore no griffon, though her connections to the Wardens were as numerous as they were varied, and the two of them probably had more in common than either would care to admit. Her letter had been rather blunt and to the point, but Loghain respected that. This was a woman who'd seen the horrors of red lyrium firsthand during the mage rebellion in Kirkwall, when Knight-Commander Meredith had lost herself to its song. Hawke had battled Corypheus and lived, or at least _survived._ He figured that entitled her to a little bluntness. Besides, after decades spent embroiled in politics, her straightforwardness had been refreshing.

(And he'd be a hypocrite if he held the 'crime' of frankness against anyone.)

Loghain felt more at home in this dank smugglers' cave, littered with dust and bones and more than the occasional spider, than he had at Montsimmard or Adamant, or even Weisshaupt. It felt good to have Fereldan soil beneath his feet, and better to put miles between himself and Warden-Commander Clarel when she was hell-bent on ritual sacrifice. Or murder, if you were inclined to call it what it was.

"We are all running away from something," King Maric had once said. Loghain wondered if he'd say the same of him now, squirrelled away while the world went to shit (again), waiting for someone else to take up arms against Clarel and that Vint cultist who whispered in her ear. He was aware that at least two Wardens had tracked him from Amaranthine, where he'd hoped to meet with the Fereldan Warden-Commander, who also just so happened to be his daughter-in-law. Typically, she was busy trying to find a cure, or some such nonsense, as if other Wardens hadn't been searching for centuries beforehand. _Well,_ he thought, with a wry smile, _if anyone's likely to find one, it'll be her._

He still heard the Calling, even all the way out in western Ferelden, because it didn't _matter_ how far away from an Archdemon you were. Their song was nothing like the internal, incessant itching when he sensed darkspawn nearby, not even an amplified version of it. It was nothing like anything he'd ever felt before, and that scared him far more than any blood magic. More than darkspawn, or demons, or the Deep Roads. But not more than Orlesians, whom he'd faced before and lived.

Or at least survived.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from 'This Is How You Lose the Time War' by Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone.


End file.
